Here is what we seek: a compassion that can stand in awe at what the poor have to carry rather than in judgment at how they carry it. Gregory Boyle, Founder, Homeboy Industries
There was a gentle rapping at our bedroom door. It was 6:00 a.m. and our daughter, who has lived with us since her spouse passed away, said in a quiet voice that she thought our 7-year-old grandson had strep throat – again. She added, “I have a big presentation this morning, could you take him to the urgent care?” My wife had a doctor’s appointment so I, the distant third preference, was tagged the designated driver to take him to see the doctor.
We got the earliest available appointment at the nearby urgent care, 8:30. I was briefed on the symptoms – 99.8 fever at 1:30 a.m., nausea, 101.8 fever by 6:00 a.m., sore throat, says he feels like he is going to die – and off we go. We get in to see the doctor. Yes, it is strep, no it is not Covid nor flu. We get our prescription info sent to the pharmacy. Anxious to get home, we get in the car, I push the start button – silence. I push it again – silence. My battery is dead.
I immediately call my wife. No, she has not left for her appointment. Yes, she can come right over. So, I dig the jumper cables out of the back of my all-but-new Chevy Tahoe and start to hook them up. My grandson, who is curious about anything mechanical, gets out of the car and asks if he can see under the hood and how the cables work: red clip goes on the (+) battery post, black clip on the (–) post.
Suddenly a beat-up old Mazda – at least 12 years old, ample dents, passenger window down on a cold February morning – swerves into the parking space beside me, kinda like Kramer skidding into Seinfield’s apartment. Out pops this attractive young lady: “need a jump?” At first, I’m flattered she is showing an interest in me. Then I get the real picture – she is on a rescue mission for a grandfather that needs help.
But what really struck me was what she said next: “I was driving along and saw you in the parking lot and thought, I know what it is like to be stranded with a dead battery and a kid. So, I made a U-turn and came back to offer you a jump.”
I was speechless. I thought to myself how many cars drove down that street that morning while I was popping the hood and hooking up the jumper cables? Maybe 30, 50, a bunch because it was still rush-hour. Her empathy for my plight came from her own experience of need. I have no idea if she was a citizen or illegal, progressive or conservative, religious or not. She certainly didn’t look rich – but the battery from her old junker and her heart were very much alive and my nearly new battery was dead.
I thanked her profusely but told her my wife was on her way. And with that she flashed a big smile and drove away.
Cars aren’t the only thing with dead or dying batteries these days, in the midst of an emotional and mental health pandemic. The deaths of despair have been widely chronicled. Forty-three percent of young adults report an increase in loneliness since the Covid pandemic. About half of lonely young adults say that no one in the past few weeks has “taken more than just a few minutes” to ask how they are doing in a way that made them feel like the person “genuinely cared.” Depression and ER visits for self-harm among teenage girls has doubled since the adoption of the smartphone around 2009. And, 73% of Americans under 30 believe people “just look out for themselves” most of the time compared to 48% for those over 65.
How many of us, as we move about, have our eyes wide-open for someone who needs a jump – at work, home, in the community, at church?
Later that day, I had a lunch meeting. My good friend Don had called and asked if I would meet with his friend Jim (not real name) who had recently stepped down as CFO. He thought my experience as a CEO coach and my connections might be helpful for Jim. We met for lunch and I asked Jim to share what he was looking for. He shared that his wife had been diagnosed with early onset of Alzheimer’s at age 55 and she was now at the place where she could not be alone. He had left his CFO position to take care of her and was looking to serve in a remote CFO/COO or related consulting capacity that he could mainly do from home. He said, “I know how to look for a full-time job but am struggling to find a way to connect to find this part-time role.”
He was an impressive guy with a strong resume, but he was like me earlier that morning. He had a dead battery and needed a jump. We had a very meaningful two-hour discussion and I hope it helped him but I know it helped me. It reminded me of how like so many of us, this guy looked like he had the world by the tail, but concealed to the world, he was struggling with a set of very challenging circumstances. I harkened back to my sister’s response when, during a challenging time I told her I was doing pretty well “under the circumstances.” She asked with that mischievous smile: “What are you doing under there?” Yes, well, we all live “under the circumstances.”
Yet our circumstances, especially the difficult ones, are often our greatest teachers – it is where we learn what we cannot or will not learn any other way. Seldom is it the ample theorizing or learned-espousing that does it. More often, it is someone with a set of jumper cables and a battery that does the trick.
And, unlike the examples above, often our most trying circumstances involve those with whom we have significant differences and conflict. Father Gregory Boyle, founder of Homeboy Industries, the largest gang-intervention, rehabilitation, and reentry program in the world, and author of several excellent books including, The Whole Language, quotes Saint Gregory: “We are saved by the people we despise.”
Boyle adds, “The folks who create the dis-ease within us, cause us to recoil and flee, to become defensive, the very people we disparage for disagreeing with us and who are on the polar opposite spectrum of our political or theological beliefs—turns out, these are our teachers and our salvation.”
What if this is true? Clearly, there are toxic and abusive relationships that we must exit. But, in some of our most contentious circumstances between husband/wife, parent/child, brother/sister, boss/subordinate, the batteries and jumper cables we most need to become healed and whole are carried by those we despise, those who most wound us.
Father Boyle makes another trenchant point: “If you don’t make a home for your own wounds within, you will always despise the wounded.” Our own untended wounds play a major role in how we allow our enemies’ “wounds,” to offend us so deeply. The most predictable, productive place for us to start is to work on our own wounds – not theirs. We need a jump!
So, here’s the deal. How I move outside – outside myself, my space, my comfort, my pain, my circumstances – is often my biggest opportunity. Grab a set of jumper cables and move about outside yourself – look for people with dead batteries who need a jump – they are there. Our relational jumper-cables often provide just the emotional lift to get someone else going again, and in the process, to recharge our own batteries. And, sometimes the jumper-cables we most need will only be available from those with whom we most struggle.
Link to the original article: Relational Jumper-Cables: For Dead Batteries (linkedin.com)
Robert’s latest book, “This Land of Strangers: The Relationship Crisis That Imperils Home, Work, Politics and Faith,” is now in paperback. A “recovering CEO,” he has authored 200 published articles and his work has appeared in The New York Times, Forbes, The Huffington Post, The CEO Magazine. His website: www.robertehall.com